Waifs and Strays [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter Twenty-Six

His head falls into his hands and he doesn't move for a moment. "I killed him, Liam," I hear his croaky voice, muffled by his hands, before his body starts shaking with sobs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Louis' POV

"So, now we both have bullet wounds," Harry says excitedly while he carries the kettle over to one of our make-shift bathtubs to pour in more steaming water. Our bathtubs are barrels, vertically cut in half to form a small version of an actual tub.

"So cool, we should register a club," I say sarcastically.

Harry frowns. "Hm, but what would we call ourselves," he mumbles in thought, "Slightly Wounded Worriers, or maybe just Shot Squad"

I can't help but laugh. "Harry, that was a joke," I chuckle. Did I seriously just need to explain it to him?

"Huh?" Harry turns away from filling the kettle with fresh cold water to look at me, "but Shot Squad is a really cool name for a club, don't you think?"

I only laugh, Harry frowns again. He sits down with his arms crossed infront of his chest, leaning against the barrel opposite me to wait for the last kettle to boil. I made him do all the work again, oops.

"Suck it up, H," I chuckle after a while, "You're a dork, deal with it."

At my words, Harry can't seem to keep up the sulky expression on his face. "You called me 'H' again," he smiles.

"Well you call me 'Lou' sometimes," I reply hastily, feeling caught, "You did today, at the basketball court."

"Don't all your friends call you that sometimes?" he asks me, getting up to get the boiling water.

When he has turned away, I smile, hoping he's saying what I think he is. "Yeah, I guess they do," I mumble through my smile.

"Sometimes, you also call me 'Haz'," Harry says, sounding a bit too casual to be indifferent.

"I do," I admit without any further explanation.

"I like it when you call me that," he says, pouring the water into the tub.

"You do?" I ask, "What's so special about it?"

"Dunno," Harry shrugs, "Makes me feel like we're friends, like you care about me."

"...yeah-" I say, my voice breaking. I really don't know what to reply without sounding like an idiot.

He looks down at me then, extending his hand to help me up. "You're going in first?" he offers.

"Of course I am," I smirk, taking his hand and getting up, "I don't wanna sit in your lukewarm filth water, later."

"Fair enough," Harry laughs, putting his hands on my waist to keep me steady. He's close now, so close that I have to tilt up my head slightly to be able look into his eyes.

"You know what might be another idea? One where we could both enjoy the hot water?" Harry says under his breath, his bright green eyes looking dark all of a sudden, "We could both get in there together."

I'm expecting the corner of his lips to pull up into a mischievous smile any minute but it doesn't come. His eyes stay serious and there is something else in his look that I can't quite decipher.

"The barrel is really small," I mumble, absentmindedly playing with my hoodie that he is still wearing.

"I can see that," Harry says matter-of-factly, but he doesn't even look.

"Two grown men are a crowd in there," I tell him, my eyes flickering to his lips again to check for the smirk that I know is coming. But it doesn't come.